by M-C Ranger
‘Yes, you are correct, Miss Lucas,’ the young man replied, with some hesitation. ‘It is in my nature. I cannot help but be somewhat secretive and to bestow those I love with surprises. That’s how it is!’
The young women smiled in response to his slightly mischievous demeanour and Elizabeth hastened to change the subject.
‘Your father and his wife are fine? I remember Mrs. Weston quite well; we made her acquaintance last autumn and she seemed utterly charming.’
‘Yes,’ Maria interrupted with enthusiasm, ‘you met her at our place, Elizabeth.’
Then, turning to the young man, she added, ‘So, if I understood correctly, Mr. Churchill, you are ... the son of Mr. Weston!’
Jane, feeling slightly ill at ease, blinked. Had she shown a lack of discretion in revealing to her sister the connection between Mr. Weston and Frank Churchill? She sincerely hoped that this was not the case. She was relieved by the young man’s response.
‘Indeed, Miss Lucas. You therefore know my new mother-in-law,’ replied Frank Churchill, sounding rather amused. ‘Allow me to add that Miss Elizabeth is correct. She is charming, and my father seems to be the happiest of men!’
‘In fact, Mrs. Woodhouse had explained to us that she lived near Randalls, as she had spent several years in Hartfield, which is not far from there. Do you know the family of which she spoke?’
Frank Churchill appeared to reflect on this for a moment.
‘I had the honour of being presented to Mr. Woodhouse and his younger daughter, Miss Emma Woodhouse. I spent some time with them on several occasions. You know, Highbury is a bit like Meryton near where you live; everyone knows each other and they cross paths regularly. One could almost say that it’s almost like its own little world!’
Elizabeth was under the impression that she’d already heard this comment. The memory suddenly returned to her: it was at Netherfield Park, when her mother had come to see Jane, who was ailing. Mr. Darcy had expressed his opinion that society there must have to be more restrained than in the city, which Mrs. Bennet had vehemently disagreed with. At the time, Elizabeth had wished to interject, but that would only have exacerbated things, and she clearly recalled the gaze of the master of Pemberley fixed upon her while she blushed with embarrassment - a humiliating memory. It was her sister’s question that brought her back to the present.
‘Well, Mr. Churchill, you have perhaps met one of my acquaintances. In fact, we have become close friends and we began corresponding this winter. She lives with her aunt, Miss Bates, and her name is Miss Jane Fairfax. Do you recognise this name?’
Frank Churchill’s eyes widened for a few seconds, but he quickly collected himself.
‘Miss Fairfax... Yes, my father has known the Bates for a long time, and he presented these ladies to me when I first visited the region, and I have thus met Miss Fairfax. I am to see her shortly at the Coles’s, my neighbours.’
‘Mr. Churchill,’ Jane Bennet said, somewhat discomfited by her audacity, ‘may I ask you for a small favour?’
‘Naturally, Miss Bennet, if I am able to fulfil it, it would be my pleasure.’
And thus, Frank Churchill accepted the task of delivering the letter she had just written to Jane Fairfax and that she had slipped into her reticule.
‘Dear Jane, you must admit that it is sheer coincidence that we should meet someone who is going to where your letter needs to go!’ exclaimed Maria Lucas, who promised herself that she would tell her friends of this on their return.
Her interlocutors smiled in response to so much spontaneity, and then Elizabeth addressed the young man one last time.
‘Mr. Churchill, I hope that we have not caused you to miss your appointment with the barber.’
‘The barber? Oh yes, I must be off! It was a pleasure to chance upon you, ladies.’
And with a final wave, he disappeared in the crowd.
The young ladies returned to the carriage, which took them back to Kensington Gardens, where they were to have tea with Jane’s friends, Elinor and Marianne Dashwood. They walked along the pathways where the afternoon sun lent a certain brilliance to the delicate, early spring leaves. Elizabeth especially was enthralled; London also had its charms, and this large park was not the least of them. They were not the only ones to have chosen to come here for a walk. It was truly a parade, in which elegant young women advanced, convinced, with each movement of their parasols, that they had awakened the interest of the gentlemen, who were strutting about like roosters in a barnyard. Indeed, this is what Elizabeth thought as she contemplated the comings and goings of so many elegant people.
‘To see and be seen, that it all that matters,’ she said, in an amused tone.
‘One would say that you talk about this as though it is a game!’ declared Maria Lucas with astonishment, while following with her gaze all the beautiful, light-coloured gowns and the well-tailored frock coats.
‘It is a game of sorts, but I cannot attest to whether it is amusing, as...’
‘Oh! Lizzy, could you let our young friend enjoy her outing without analysing everything she sees?’ Jane Bennet sighed, comically. ‘She will have all the time in the world, later, to come to this realisation, believe me.’
‘Excuse me,’ Elizabeth replied, apologetically.
It truly was not necessary to remind her older sister of her disappointment and her agony.
‘Jane! Elizabeth!’ Maria exclaimed, who, fortunately, had not caught the end of the exchange between the two sisters, as she was so occupied with watching the comings and goings around her. ‘Look over there! There are some walkers who noticed you and who are coming towards our table.’
Jane, relieved at this diversion, presented Miss Dashwood, who, in turn, presented Colonel Brandon, a handsome and dignified officer in his mid-thirties. Tea was ordered and soon a conversation was underway. It was thus learned that Miss Marianne was ailing and had not been able to accept their invitation, but that her health was not in danger - she merely needed some rest. It was also learned that the Colonel had an estate in Dorset and that he wished to offer the parish that was connected to it to a friend of Elinor Dashwood’s because this friend had just been denied his inheritance, and that he would soon be married. Maria and Elizabeth, seized with emotion, approved of the undertaking of the Colonel, who had, on motives of delicacy, asked Miss Dashwood to be his intermediary, which she had naturally accepted with good grace. During this exchange, Jane Bennet had discretely observed Elinor Dashwood’s gestures and the intonations in her voice, but, much like herself, her friend knew how to govern her feelings.
‘I am certain, Elinor, that you will fulfil this role with all the sensibility that you have always demonstrated. I hope that you will return to Devonshire in order to once again be near the sea and enjoy long walks along the coast, even if we may not see each other again so soon.’
Seized with emotion, Elinor Dashwood relinquished her customary reserve for a few seconds, smiling sweetly at her friend, her eyes betraying her great sorrow. Jane Bennet knew. She immediately understood, because she, too, was suffering.
‘In fact, we shall be returning next week. The ocean air will do Marianne some good,’ she replied, turning towards Elizabeth and Maria. ‘We shall be leaving with Mrs. Jennings, who is going to see her daughter and her son-in-law in Cleveland, and we shall continue from there, as the Colonel has kindly offered to accompany us all the way to Barton. And thus our stay in London shall end.’
‘We also, Miss Dashwood, are leaving. Miss Elizabeth, my father and I are leaving tomorrow for Kent, which is where my sister Charlotte, who recently married, has moved to. I must confer,’ the young lady said, laughing, ‘that there are positive benefits to marriage: one can visit other areas. It is a pleasure, don’t you think?’
Elizabeth, noticing the discomfiture caused by Maria’s naive interruption, hastened to agree and to mention that they were expected at the theatre that very evening. The Colonel had the brilliant idea of remembering that Miss Dashw
ood was to go by Strand Street to purchase charcoal and drawing paper at Ackermann’s before leaving the city. The goodbyes were affectionate, particularly when Jane grasped her friend’s hands.
‘Elinor, I shall greatly look forward to receiving news from you. You will write me, will you not? I will be at my Aunt Gardiner’s for a few more weeks and shall be returning to Hertfordshire towards the end of April or early May. I shall be thinking of you.’
‘Thank you, Jane. We get along so well because we are so similar... It will do me good to write you,’ whispered Miss Dashwood.’
‘Colonel Brandon, we were truly delighted to have made your acquaintance.’
‘Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Maria, the pleasure was mine.’
While the silhouettes of Miss Dashwood and the Colonel disappeared among the walkers, Elizabeth looked at her sister with curiosity. The latter discretely placed her index finger on her lips. She would explain later. In the meantime, they had to return to the Gardiners to prepare to go out again, as the evening at the theatre promised to be entertaining. ‘After all, they would be watching a performance of The School for Scandal!’ exclaimed Maria Lucas, who most certainly could not have gauged the irony that her companions would have felt at the mention of this title. The young lady simply marvelled at everything that she had experienced since leaving Lucas Lodge. To think that they had left there that very morning. Goodness gracious! She would have so many things to tell Kitty, Lydia and also Sally Morris, but especially pretentious Janet Long, who had looked down her nose at her because she had stayed in Oxford for two days before going to her aunt’s in Burford.
*****
In the Berlin carriage on route to Kent, Elizabeth smiled while listening to Maria tell Sir William for the second, if not the third time, about the extraordinary play they had seen the day before at the Lyceum Theatre. What could be said about this hypocrite, Joseph Surface, and the scene in which some of the characters hid behind furniture! This plot, which ranged between comedy and tragedy, had elements that delighted even the most disenchanted of spectators, which the girl clearly was not. Exhausted by the evening and her boundless enthusiasm, Maria ended up falling asleep, as did her father. This provided Elizabeth with the opportunity to mull over the conversation she had started with her sister the evening before, when they were getting ready for bed.
She had therefore been right in worrying about her older sister. While Jane had hidden her broken heart as best she could, her younger sister’s practiced eyes had noticed her melancholy. Even their Aunt Gardiner had sensed it, based on the young woman’s frequently distracted gaze. However, Jane had managed to hide her lack of enthusiasm from her little cousins, who were a great solace to her, cheering her up with their games and incessant chatter. But then yesterday, this balance, which had somehow managed to allow her sister to maintain her composure, had left her distressed. Here is what Jane’s justifications had looked like or, in any case, what her younger sister had understood: through her charming mannerisms, she had attracted his attention and he had not really tried to hide his admiration. Those around her had clearly discerned the young man’s inclinations and, while the lucky chosen one had exhibited great discretion, she had felt the same emotions. Who would be more deserving than she of this happiness?! Who could be so disdainful as to malign these emotions because of social ranking or fortune? Who? An “attentive” sister, a “vigilant” friend? Goodness! How unjust life was for the Elinors and Janes of this world, Elizabeth protested. And what could be said of those young men who sacrificed their happiness at the altar of social conventions. Fortunately, Mr. Collins would rise to the challenge and would not disappoint. This is what Mr. Bennet had predicted to his second daughter on her departure. She thus entertained herself with finding a few “compliments” that she would deliver to her dear cousin as soon as he found the opportunity to remind her of the exceptional proposal that she had declined... and which had allowed Charlotte to secure her future. Thinking of her friend brought to mind the memory she had of Charlotte, who had mentioned the presence of a distant cousin who might be at the parsonage during their stay. That reassured her. It would be someone else who would help her bear the burden of Mr. Collins’s frequent praises of his benefactress. As her musings had taken her in many different directions, she was surprised to hear Sir William, who had awoken a short time ago, announce that they had reached the grounds of Rosings, and that it was impressive, and that one could only rejoice in the fortunate destiny of his eldest daughter. Upon which Maria applauded and Elizabeth smiled; the first without the least bit of restraint, the other without the least bit of conviction.
The carriage stopped in front of a pretty, two-storey house adorned with a magnificent climbing rose. The carefully raked, gravel path lead to the main entrance and then continued to the south side, where one could see the first rows of a meticulously kept vegetable garden. The parsonage, with its freshly painted green shutters, was welcoming, and living there appeared pleasant, provided one could forget the master, and, seeing to what extent Charlotte appeared content, Elizabeth concluded that her friend forgot about him often. If she was harbouring certain misgivings about the emotional life of the home’s new mistress, she was quickly reassured on seeing how nicely organised and well-managed the house was. Everything was perfect. Even the stairs, it seemed, had been reinforced to take into account the role of its main occupant. Naturally, it was important to highlight the judicious advice of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who had deemed it useful, in her gracious goodwill, to condescend to discussing the placement of the shelves of various cupboards. No, but the indulgence of her ladyship was without parallel! Elizabeth could do nothing but agree on this point, a malicious sparkle in her eyes.
After freshening up, the guests found themselves in the drawing room, where they met one of William Collins’ classmates. He had been invited to stop in Kent on his return from Canterbury, where he had gone to visit an old aunt, who was widowed and lived alone, and who loved him dearly.
‘Miss Bennet, Miss Lucas, Sir Lucas, I am most enchanted to meet you here, in Hunsford, where Mrs. and Mr. Collins had the goodwill to welcome me.’
‘The pleasure is ours, Mr. Elton. Will you be in the area for some time?’ asked Sir William.
‘I am merely passing through, but I was able to ascertain that my colleague has the good fortune of being under the patronage of a very noble lady and to have found much bliss in his marriage,’ noted Philip Elton, bowing gallantly before the wife of his host. ‘As for me, I shall be leaving soon, and I will pass by London, after which I will return to Bath.’
‘And you, Mr. Elton, if I understood my cousin’s remarks correctly, are about to take your wedding vows. Will you accept all our wishes for a happy future?’
Before the latter could reply, William Collins spoke, adopting an aphoristic tone.
‘Cousin Elizabeth, as you can see by this example, this is proof that the situation of a man of the Church, such as Mr. Elton or myself, is most enviable and that every young woman concerned about her future cannot help but be flattered, even grateful, by being able to attract the attention of such a beneficial match. I am certain that Mrs. Collins would agree fully with my opinion.’
Charlotte, embarrassed by her husband’s words, discretely smiled and then tried to address her younger sister in order to change the topic of the conversation to one less delicate. However, Maria, ever spontaneous, exclaimed, ‘Perhaps you are right, Mr. Collins, but I believe that it is entirely possible that a young woman could refuse an offer such as this, even if it appears favourable. What is your opinion, Elizabeth? And yours, Mr. Elton?’
Much to everyone’s great surprise, reverend Collins was not the only one to exhibit a strong reaction. While the former became rather pale in response to the allusion of what he had experienced the autumn before, Mr. Elton blushed from head to toe when he heard the remarks of this young scatterbrain.
‘Maria, I believe that under the circumstances, one would do
well to congratulate Mr. Elton and to wish him a happiness that is as profound as that of your sister and Mr. Collins,’ interrupted Elizabeth, who sincerely wished to conclude this conversation, which appeared, for some, to be rather sensitive in nature.
‘My husband insists on showing you his garden, and I invite you to follow him. When you return, tea shall be served. Also, my cousin will probably have returned from her walk,’ Charlotte clarified, having regained her customary calm, and taking the time to bestow her friend with a grateful smile.
In that very same moment, she also thought to herself that she would have to have a little discussion with her younger sister. Perhaps the influence of Lydia Bennet on a girl as impressionable as Maria was not insignificant and this would have to be remedied as quickly as possible. As for Elizabeth, she thought to herself that her stay in Kent would perhaps not be as predictable as she had initially thought. She could not have said it much better.
Chapter II
In which we learn that most of the time,
a question leads to a response,
one that is not necessarily
the one that was expected
In her gracious goodwill, Lady Catherine had an observation for the residents of the parsonage. It is for this reason that they received an invitation to tea and, categorically, the opportunity to convey their respects to the ladies of Rosings. Until the given time, the people of Hunsford therefore had to anticipate the immense fortune that had been granted them. His guests, those of William Collins, were worthy of presenting themselves in the drawing rooms of her ladyship. He simply could not believe it! Miss Price listened to him, her interest never seeming to waver, something Elizabeth admired discretely, not having this degree of patience towards her cousin. What the latter did not know was that Fanny Price had on many occasions had the opportunity to practise this talent when she was attending to her aunt, Lady Bertram. Feeling anxious, Maria had changed her gown two or three times until Elizabeth kindly told her that they would be going for tea and not dancing at St. James’ Court. Sir Lucas would gladly have given his opinion regarding this point, but he was interrupted by Mr. Collins, who was eager to make his opinion known.
